


It's Not About Dibs

by ProblematicFavesAreProblematic (SaritaNotSerena)



Category: Band of Brothers (TV 2001)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-20
Updated: 2020-12-20
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:46:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,394
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28182621
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SaritaNotSerena/pseuds/ProblematicFavesAreProblematic
Relationships: Ronald Speirs/Reader
Comments: 2
Kudos: 9





	It's Not About Dibs

Ron Speirs x Reader

  


Oh _HELL_ yes! This is for you @teenmagazines, hope you’re ready for a doozy!  
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Talbert was a smooth son of a bitch, you had to give him that much.

You knew he was a flirt, _had known it_ from the moment you’d met him back in Georgia. Being a nurse meant you were accustomed to feeling the lingering looks of the men you helped, it came with the territory, _really_. It only made sense- these men saw so few women during these years of vigorous training that the first flash of skirt was bound to catch their attention. It was natural, understandable. 

But _Floyd_? Floyd was absolutely _shameless_ when it came to flirting with you. Where the traumas of war had numbed any sense of charm in most of the men who had initially tried to pursue you, Tab seemed to only grow more determined, bolder in his flirtatious quips.

Normally, you laughed and brushed it off- flirting back for fun before the two of you would inevitably be called back to your positions. It hadn’t ever gone too far, the both of you having some unspoken understanding that it was all done in good fun and that nothing was probably ever going to happen. 

Tonight, however, was a different story entirely.

Part of the reason you’d never truly given Floyd a second thought was due to the fact that it was common knowledge that Talbert would flirt with anything with a vagina and a smile, but if you were being completely honest with yourself- you knew it had more to do with your complicated infatuation with a certain Captain from Dog Company.

Ron Speirs was a….problem for you, to say the least.

He was brooding and intimidating and sharp-tongued, yes- but he was also one of the most distractingly handsome men you had ever met. And the bastard knew it, too.

From the moment Meehan had asked him to further your education in hand to hand combat, Ron Speirs had made it clear that he knew exactly how distracting he could be. Between the smug smirks he’d shoot your way and the borderline _lewd_ take-down positions he’d work the two of you into, Ron always made sure to whisper corrections to the shell of your ear in such a way that your breath would catch almost painfully in your throat.

_“Can’t leave your side open like that, pretty girl.”_

_“You’re gonna have to use your hips to twist out of this one.”_

_“You gonna get yourself into a whole world of trouble if you squirm like_ **_that_ ** _, darlin’.”_

It pissed you off, _it turned you on_.

Under his tutelage, you’d excelled- learning how to break away from an attacker and how to strike to kill and how to use someone’s momentum against them. His praise made you preen and you’d be lying if you said that pinning him underneath didn’t you gave you some sort of proud rush.

A strange, heady familiarity had formed- one that never really _went_ anywhere but still seemed to connect you to each other like an electric current. 

After dropping into Normandy, however, his strange charm had turned into a nearly cruel protectiveness. 

More often than not you found yourself being pushed aside and dragged away from the men you were trying to treat, overlooked when it came to picking which nurses were to take rotations on the frontlines. The few times you managed to actually get out there and do your _fucking_ job, Ron was hovering so tensely behind you that you found yourself making mistakes or tripping over yourself. And, worst of all, he didn’t even seem to acknowledge you as a woman anymore.

If anything, you were just another mouth to feed. 

Another face he had to deal with.

The only time any of that had wavered was in the forests around Foy, when he’d had no say in the fact that you were to be Dog Company's medic.

The fail of firepower and shattering trees was nothing short of spectacular- a symphony of destruction that scared you as much as if amazed you. Never before had you felt the earth around you quake and rattle with such violent power that you truly believed it could crack open and swallow you whole.

And through the entirety of it, Ron Speirs had been there- shielding you from the onslaught of falling shards of timber and shrapnel with every inch of his body, holding your helmet onto your head as he used his body to shelter you from the destruction happening just above your heads. 

Any and all of your screams were encouraged into the meat of his chest as he held you so close you wondered if the two of you might fuse together, his grip on you refusing to let you respond to the desperate cries of “medic” until he was absolutely _sure_ that the onslaught had ceased for the time being.

He’d kissed you for the first time during one of these barrages, when you hadn’t screamed at all and simply clung to him as if you feared he’d be torn away from you if you didn’t. Ron had shouted your name through the chaos, and when you’d turned your head to look at him he’d crushed his lips against yours with the same anxious desperation you’d been holding him with- kissing you until your head swam and all you could hear and see and taste and feel was _him, him him._

Your lips had been swollen by the time it all became quiet again, your body feeling warmer than it had in _weeks_ and panting up at him like an idiot.

When the scream for a medic rang out, he’d hungrily kissed you once more before sitting back enough to allow you to leave the foxhole, his eyes wild as he nodded for you to go.

“ _Be careful,_ ” he’d commanded, chest heaving as he looked at you. “ _Come back when you’re done_.”

That had been nearly two weeks ago, and when you had come back he’d acted as if nothing had happened. The next day, when word of relief medics had reached the encampment, he’d sent you away _again_.

You should’ve known nothing would change, but it still stung.

Which brought you back to _Floyd Talbert._

A group of you were sitting around a table while some of the other men played cards nearby, a bottle of some gold liquid being passed around to anyone who wanted some.

Tab, lubed up and feeling confident, was whispering some sweet thing into your ear that you were _just tipsy enough_ to blush at- something about how ‘unfair it was that’ you were so ‘beautiful and smart’ and how _sad_ it was that he hadn’t had the chance to ‘do anything about it’.

“I’m serious, Y/N, it’s goddamn _heartbreaking_ , knowing you’re _right her_ e and no one is making you feel as good as you deserve to feel-”

You rolled your eyes, head lolling to the side so you can squint critically at him.

“And _how good_ do I _deserve_ to feel, Floyd? _Hm_?”

His smile was pure sex, and when he wet his lips with this tongue you couldn’t help but watch with heavy-lidded eyes.

His hand is warm on your thigh, and when he brings his forehead to rest against yours you can taste the alcohol on his breath.

“Oh, Babygirl- there aren’t enough _words_ in the _world_ to describe what I wanna do to you…”

The finger he drags along the seam of your pants between your legs had you inhaling sharply, heat rising to your cheeks as you somehow manage not to jump at the contact.

_God, when was the last time anyone had touched you there…?_

In your mind’s eye, you get a flash of memory, remembering the time Ron had shown you how to wrestle your thighs around a man’s neck and pin him down. 

He’d looked so _proud_ when you’d finally managed to do it, patting your thigh with a mumble of _“that’s it, good job”_

Just as your lips part to reply, a hand grabs heavily at your shoulder and you’re being pulled up from your seat bodily, snapping out of your carnal daze like you’ve been splashed with a bucket of cold water.

It takes you a moment to realize that _Ron_ is the owner of that hand, and is currently fisting Floyd’s jacket and all but _throwing_ him to the ground.

“ _Ron_!”

You barely hear yourself shout his name over the sound of everyone else in the room shooting to their feet and rushing over, no one stopping the Captain but no one _silently_ watching either.

A wave of protests and cries to _take it easy_ floods the room, and only you are close enough to hear Ron’s venomous accusations being grit out through his teeth.

“Have you lost your goddamned _mind_ , boy? Is this how you engage with a fellow soldier? Getting them drunk and _copping a feel, huh?_ ”

Floyd, to his credit, says nothing as Ron hovers over him face blank and hands raised submissively at his sides. What he probably _shouldn’t_ have done, however, was let a smirk curl the corners of his full lips and shoot a wink your way.

Ron all but _snarls_ at that, roughly letting the man go before standing up straight and turning on you.

“Let’s go,” he snaps icily. “You’re **_done_** for the night.”

You protest, backing away from him about two steps before he grabs you by the arm and is hauling you through the throng that had assembled around him and Tab and marching towards the door.

“ _Jesus_ , Ron! What’s your _problem_?”

He ignores you, storming the both of you out of the building you had previously been in, across the street, and pulling you behind him into the house he had usurped from a family earlier in the day.

“ _Ron_ , you’re _hurting_ my _arm_ , stop it!”

The grip on your bicep softens instantly, his fingers wrapping around your sleeve and dragging you by the fabric instead. 

By the time you manage to shake him off, he’s already let you go, having brought the two of you into a room that must have belonged to one of the children who’d been temporarily displaced.

You stumble a few steps before catching your footing, anger flooding your veins with a rage you hadn’t felt in quite a while.

You gape at his back as he closes the door behind him, one of his hands coming up to smooth his dark hair back into place. He’s breathing hard but so are you, and when he doesn’t turn back around to look at you you decide to take matters into your own hands.

He does seem surprised when you grab his arm and yank him around to face you, his piercing eyes going wide for just a moment before becoming cold once again.

“What in the _absolute fuck_ is your problem?!” you screech, smacking his hand when it begins to rise and reach for you. “No, **_NO_**! Don’t fucking touch me! _What the **fuck**_? What’s the _matter_ with you?”

His glare does nothing to intimidate you, if anything it fuels your anger.

Poking his chest with a hard jab of your finger, you step into him and let him have it.

“You have no right to manhandle me like that, _you hear me_? You had _no right_ to _spoil_ everyone’s night like that—”

“I’m your commanding officer, Y/L/N,” he spat quietly, batting your hand away with all the attention he would give a pestering fly. “You don’t _get_ to tell me what I _can_ and _cannot_ do—!”

“ _Eugene Roe_ and _Spina_ are my fucking superiors, _Speirs-_ I’m not one of your soldiers and you don’t get to _pick and chose_ to torment me when you feel like flexing your authority! Not with _me_ , not with _any_ of the medics! Only Winters can do that and you _know_ that—!”

The look he gives you is nothing less than a blaring warning, his jaw ticking with rage.

“Get out of my face, _Nurse_. You forget who you’re talking to—”

You smirk. “You didn’t seem to mind my face being this close to yours a couple of weeks ago, or was that _another_ power trip on your part?”

“Y/N, I’m _warning_ you—”

“ _Why_? What are you going to do? Send me away _again_? Get all high and mighty just because Floyd has the balls to like me and fucking _do_ _something_ about it and you don’t?”

His hands snap out and roughly grab your face before smashing his lips to yours so hard your teeth clink together, the kiss cruel and overpowering and so goddamn hot it nearly makes your toes curl.

Your hands shove at him, anger and lust and hurt and sadness all hitting you at once and making your head spin.

“Ron, **_Ron_**! HEY!” 

You’re able to turn your face from the kiss enough to bark at him, moving to step away only to realize he’s walked you back so you hit a wall softly. Your hands are still fisted in his shirt and his hands have moved from your face to your arms and for a few moments the two of you just stand there gasping for air and openly glaring at each other.

When you finally collect yourself enough to steady your breathing, you let your head fall back against the wall with a dull _thud_ , wetting your lips a few times before you feel like you can actually speak.

“That’s….this isn’t _fair_. You don’t get to do shit _like that—_ ”

“Like what?” he interrupts, taking a step closer to you and hissing when you shove him back.

“ _That_. you don't get to, _fucking-_ fucking treat me like shit and then get all possessive when I’m not even, when _we’re_ not...you don’t get to do that—!”

“He had his fucking hands all over you.” Ron’s voice is steel on stone, and it takes everything in you not to roll your eyes.

“I _wanted_ his fucking hands on me.”

Ron frowns at that, and you frown right back.

“You made yourself pretty clear, sending me away like some _nuisance_ after I saved _your_ _men_ when no one else would. If you hate me so much, why’d you kiss me in the first place—?”

He’s shaking his head before you finish speaking, “It had nothing to do with that, I don’t fucking hate you—”

You scoff. “No?”

“ _No_ , you stupid girl—”

“Don’t call me stupid, you _fucking_ _prick_. I’m not the one who results to schoolyard antics when I get a crush on someone—!”

Ron barks a laugh at that. “I don’t have a crush on you.”

“No?”

“ _No_.”

“So you _wouldn’t_ mind if I left right now and let Floyd Talbert absolutely _destroy_ _me_ tonight?”

He says your name as another warning, and you can’t stop the amused expression that crosses your face as you shake your head.

“Unbelievable. You’re such a _child_.”

This time he has no reply, but the look he gives you is answer enough.

_No, I would_ **_definitely_ ** _mind._

Letting your eyes squeeze shut, you take a deep breath.

“What do you _want_ from me, Ron?”

The hands that had been gripping your forearms falter slightly, and you hear the catch of his breath at the exhaustion in your voice.

When you open your eyes again, you see a look of confusion on his face, as if he doesn’t truly know what he wants either. Like he hadn’t gotten that far in his possessive thinking.

You both stand there for a few moments in silence, your breaths slowing and your fires smoldering into a controllable flame.

You take one of your hands from his chest to tuck some of your hair behind your ear, not realizing that your bun had come loose at some point.

Ron’s eyes follow the movement, and when you go to let your arm hang loosely by your side he takes your wrist and gently brings it back up to rest against his chest. He keeps his touch light enough that you can pull your hand away if you _really_ wanted to.

You don’t.

When you begin to turn your head away Ron says your name again, his voice softer than you’ve ever heard it or known it could be. 

“ _Ron_ ,” you reply, too tired to argue any more.

“ _Can I kiss you?”_

The question catches you off guard, and when you meet his gaze you see a flash of anxiety in his eyes.

The same way he’d looked at you before he’d kissed you in the forest.

You take a deep breath. “Not if you’re going to treat me like crap and send me away afterward.”

He studies you for a moment before he nods minutely, eyes flickering down to your lips as he hesitantly takes a step into you again, the hand not holding yours coming up to hold your jaw.

When he kisses you this time it is sweet, his full mouth plush against yours and nothing like the way he’s kissed you before.

He does nothing untoward, allowing you to deepen the kiss in your own time and inhaling sharply once you do.

His hair is soft between your fingers, softer than it had any right to be for someone so rough.

As you tilt your head to the side he just holds you, hands framing your face as if you’re made of glass before he finally breaks away and takes a step back to catch your reaction.

“That was... _different_.”

He smiles briefly at your response, a warmth in his gaze only serving to make you flush deeper.

“Bad, or—?”

 _No, no_. _Not_ bad,” you rush to say, taking a deep breath before shooting him a nervous smile. “It was... _nice_.”

“I should’ve kissed you like that the first time.”

You shake your head at that. “No, I mean- I didn’t _mind_ it, uh…. _before_.”

His thumb brushes across your bottom lip you swallow nervously, unused to this sort of softness from him.

“I didn’t send you away because I don't think you’re a good medic. You should- _I_ _should_ have made that clear.... before.”

You nod quietly. “ _Okay_.”

“You’re, you’re _really_ good- one of the best nurses I’ve seen—”

“No need to lay it on so thick, Ron. I already know how good I am.”

When he smirks and looks down he looks like a nervous little boy in front of you, and when his cheeks pinken you let yourself smile.

It’s obvious this is new territory for him, and the fact that he’s even trying means the world to you. 

You’re still mad, still embarrassed by how _wildly inappropriate_ his behavior was earlier, but you’re also aware of how difficult these little admissions of remorse must be for someone like him.

How difficult any sort of feelings other than rage and duty has become for all of you.

Although, you doubted he’d express any of these newfound values to anyone else.

“I don’t know how I’m going to break it to Floyd,” you mutter, winking at Ron when his head snaps up and he narrows his eyes. “Boy’s had it bad for me since we were stateside—”

“I’m sure he’ll get over it.” Ron interrupts, raising his eyebrow when you frown at his tone. “Besides, I outrank him. He wouldn’t disobey a direct order.”

You scoff at that. “I don’t think you can pull rank when calling ‘dibs’ on a girl, Ron. That’s not how ranks works.”

“Oh no?” he challenges. “Just you watch me.”

Before you can quip something back to him he gives you another long, slow kiss that effectively shuts you up.

“And, just for the record,” he says between kisses. “I don’t call ‘dibs'. If anything, I call _finders keepers_.”

When you pout he grins wickedly down at you.

“Don’t look at me like that.”

“You’re such a child. I’m not a _prize_ , I’m a catch”

“Damn right you are.”

And he gets right to proving it.

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**WOOHOO HERE IT BY MY LOVELIES I DID A THING AND IT MAY BE CRAP BUT IT’S _MY_ CRAP AND I’M PLEASED WITH IT FOR NOW, _OKAY_?! **

**LOVE YOU GUYS AND THANKS FOR ALL THE LOVE LATELY, IT MEANS THE WORLD!!!**


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